2012-05-19
The Piano in a Factory: Finding a Slavonic Humour
The same warm, humanistic tone with which writer-director Zhang Meng portrayed quotidien life in a dreary Northeast China town in his debut, Lucky Dog (2007), returns exquisitely honed in his second feature, The Piano in a Factory, a lightly comic tale of one man\'s dream realised through group effort. Northern Chinese to its fingertips in its gruff humour and pragmatic but generous relationships, the film has a stylised look-aided by superb photography by Zhou Shuhao (The Robbers)-that\'s completely different from Lucky Dog\'s more naturalistic one, and an elliptical structure that doesn\'t waste a frame.
The story of an impoverished musician who tries every way to acquire a piano for his young daughter, and ends up deciding to make one by himself with the support of his unemployed pals, is simply a hook for an ensemble portrait of half-a-dozen or so friends who decide to make the most of their town\'s economic depression rather than sit around moaning about it. Exactly catching the transition in China\'s development from a state-run monolith to an entrepreneurial, individualist economy, Piano finds an almost Slavonic humour in the setting and people that\'s emphasised by the use of Russian songs and music on the soundtrack.
Chou\'s camerawork makes much use of lateral tracking shots and fixed compositions (with the same scene often shown from different angles) that could have been just arty affectations if the tempo of the editing has remained stuck in neutral. But Zhang lets the formal visuals go with the film\'s emotional flow: when the cast break into a musical number or song-most memorably when driving at night and, later, celebrating their work in a joyous flamenco number-the tempo picks up along with the content.
Performances and casting are just right. As the devoted father whose sense of self-importance often gets the better of him, Wang Qianyuan, the heroine\'s criminal boyfriend in the odd-couple comedy Set Off (2008), steps up to a lead role with considerable presence. But both he, and the rest of the male cast, are given a run for their money by actress Qin Hailu, (Durian, Durian), who also co-executive produced, as the lead\'s easy-come/easy-go girlfriend who finally makes him see the truth under his nose.
The story of an impoverished musician who tries every way to acquire a piano for his young daughter, and ends up deciding to make one by himself with the support of his unemployed pals, is simply a hook for an ensemble portrait of half-a-dozen or so friends who decide to make the most of their town\'s economic depression rather than sit around moaning about it. Exactly catching the transition in China\'s development from a state-run monolith to an entrepreneurial, individualist economy, Piano finds an almost Slavonic humour in the setting and people that\'s emphasised by the use of Russian songs and music on the soundtrack.
Chou\'s camerawork makes much use of lateral tracking shots and fixed compositions (with the same scene often shown from different angles) that could have been just arty affectations if the tempo of the editing has remained stuck in neutral. But Zhang lets the formal visuals go with the film\'s emotional flow: when the cast break into a musical number or song-most memorably when driving at night and, later, celebrating their work in a joyous flamenco number-the tempo picks up along with the content.
Performances and casting are just right. As the devoted father whose sense of self-importance often gets the better of him, Wang Qianyuan, the heroine\'s criminal boyfriend in the odd-couple comedy Set Off (2008), steps up to a lead role with considerable presence. But both he, and the rest of the male cast, are given a run for their money by actress Qin Hailu, (Durian, Durian), who also co-executive produced, as the lead\'s easy-come/easy-go girlfriend who finally makes him see the truth under his nose.
by Derek Elley
Shanghai Municipal Administration of Culture and Tourism
